Wish You Were Here
by Moonlit Water Sunny River
Summary: Steve has nothing to do but wait, wait for a clue, wait for a sign, wait for something to happen. And then, shockingly, something (or someone) does; and he's starting to regret it. Steve/Loki, Steve/Natasha/Sam, Ace!Nat, Bi!Steve. Spoilers for Cap 2 and Thor 2.
1. cold comfort for change

-1-

_-cold comfort for change-_

The world, Steve felt, had suddenly gotten both a lot bigger and a lot smaller. It wasn't unlike the feeling he'd had when he'd woken up seventy years older instead of dead, shaking off dreams of ice and stepping into a brand new world; but at least he had people with him this time. Natasha came and went, of course – Steve had briefly brought up asking her for more commitment, but a mention of it to Sam had made the other man chuckle wryly, and then tell him in no uncertain terms that that was the quickest way to make sure she never came back. And Steve supposed Sam himself made up for it by cooking him breakfast every morning in an apron that said 'Kiss the Cook, He Saved Your Ass'.

Still, there was an itch in him, a restlessness that couldn't be soothed even with his newfound, admittedly unconventional domestic life. Part of it was Bucky; his supposed settlement was really just an endless waiting and watching, hoping for a sign. He no longer had the protection of S.H.I.E.L.D., and he couldn't go around hanging up pictures of the man who'd, well… shot up half of D.C. So he waited. And waited. And even Natasha's occasional thoughts and clues that led nowhere and Sam's encouragements and comforting pep talks couldn't change that.

Until, of course, Loki appeared in his living room.

Steve blinked, blinked again. "…Could you move? I'm trying to watch."

Loki stared back at him. "Excuse me?"

Steve looked away, then back at Loki. He was still there. He halfheartedly threw the remote at him. It went right through him with a fizzle, clattering against the TV behind.

"Oh good, I was really hoping you weren't real," he sighed in exhaustion. "Because then I'd have to tell Tasha, and then she'd make a mess, and she never cleans up."

Loki frowned. "I was hoping for a slightly more impressed response. Or am I a regular part of your hallucinatory repertoire?"

"You want impressed? I can try knocking you out."

"Oh, do try, by all means. It'll be like watching a cat chase a laser pointer." Loki sneered in his singularly unpleasant fashion.

Steve rubbed his eyes and leant forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. "You're supposed to be dead, by the way."

"Am I?" He pressed his hand to his chest in mock surprise. "Well, it's news to me. Although I thought you said I wasn't real."

"No, no, you're real," Steve groaned. He really wasn't in the mood for this. "But I can't touch you therefore you can't touch me, I don't see your fancy staff and I don't see…well, anything else. And, like I said, everyone thinks you're dead. And I have other things to worry about."

Loki really _did _look surprised at this point. "That's…remarkably lackluster coming from you."

"I just had to fight my best friend," Steve snapped suddenly, rising from his seat. "I had to beat him to a pulp and let him do the same to me and he couldn't even remember my name. So I suggest you piss off before I ring up your brother and let him know you're still around."

Loki had actually taken an instinctive step backward. "You wouldn't do that," he muttered. "Not Mr. America."

"It's _Captain. _And leave now, and I won't say a damn word. I'm nice like that."

With one last scowl, the image of Loki shimmered and disappeared. Steve didn't move for a long time, clenching and unclenching his fists. He didn't move, in fact, until Sam came through the door with a brown paper bag of groceries and Natasha with another new haircut in tow. "Look what the cat dragged in!"

Steve glanced up at her, and then grinned. "Welcome back."

She actually blushed at that, although most people wouldn't have been able to tell. Even secret agents had their tells. "Honey, I'm home," she replied with a smirk. "Shall I water the garden?"

"Actually…"

"Wait, do we have a garden now?" She looked at Sam for confirmation, much to his amusement.

"Come home more often and you'd know these things! We got, uh… carrots growing back there, some nice flowers –"

"What kind?"

"The flowery kind. I don't know. Steve picked them."

"I want a pumpkin." She sat down on the couch and tugged at Steve's shirt. "Sit down, I want to catch up."

And so, for a while, Steve didn't think about Bucky, or Loki, or anything much at all.


	2. a smile for a veil

-2-

_-a smile for a veil-_

The next time, it was the middle of the night and nobody else was home. Perhaps 'middle of the night' was an exaggeration – but it was dark, and although he'd never admit it to someone else, Steve had gotten rather too used to having other people around. But Sam and Natasha had been invited to Stark Tower – sorry, _Avengers _Tower – to have dinner with Stark, Banner and the oddly-named Pepper Potts. Steve had declined.

Then, two hours after they left, he'd heard a noise, went to investigate and found Loki quite happily rifling through his cupboard. Oddly enough, he didn't seem to notice him at all.

"A-_hem._"

Cue the rewarding sight of the man who'd once tried to take over the world jumping and bashing his head on a shelf. "Ow. You couldn't have just said hello?"

"You're in my house." Pause. "Again." Another pause. "And you're eating my Cheetos."

Loki discreetly wiped some cheese-dust off on his trousers. No grand ceremonial robes for him today – he actually looked like a normal person in a green turtleneck and black pants. He hadn't even expected to be caught, not with an expression like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar. "Well, they're a little difficult to find on Asgard."

"I'm still wondering about that 'dead' thing."

He shrugged. "It worked out, didn't it? I get a nice honourable death, Thor gets to grieve over me and talk about how I was secretly good and kind…so on, so forth." He grinned, but there was a quality to it that Steve didn't like.

"Why my house, though?"

"Cheetos." He waggled the bag, which was getting close to empty.

"And _my _home, why? Tash and Sam don't exactly have any great love for you, and I think I expressed my feelings on men like you pretty well in Germany."

Loki scowled. "There are no men like me."

"There are _plenty _of men like you. I suggest you get used to it and get over this idea that you're special, because all I see is another bully." Steve crossed his arms, glancing over to the drawer where they always kept a loaded gun. He probably didn't really need it, but at least it was there.

"Bully? Me? Have you _met _my brother?"

"Thor's a bit pompous. You tore a man's eye out in front of an audience."

Loki actually chuckled half-heartedly at that. Steve felt sick to his stomach. "You know what's so strange? I remember very little of that."

"And now you're trotting out the excuses. Isn't it a little late?"

"Better late than never. Do you have any proper alcohol? There's nothing but whiskey in here."

Steve actually considered picking up the phone and calling Natasha. The only thing that stopped him was trying to figure out what to say – "Hi, our supposedly dead enemy and teammate's brother is snacking out of my cupboard in the middle of the night, can you help?" Even after the last few years, _that _one might be a bit much to swallow.

"Alright, what's actually going on?" he found himself asking, pulling up a kitchen chair and giving Loki an inquiring look. "All I know about you is that you're Thor's brother and you've got some…er…"

"Issues?" he supplied dryly.

"…and then that you tried to take over the world. Not much to go on. Yet here you are in my kitchen acting like a normal person."

"Didn't see it coming, did you?" Loki grinned, and to his surprise, Steve returned it – it was a genuine smile, still sad, still a little stretched, but for once it didn't feel like the Asgardian was laughing at him.

"What happened? Between you and Thor."

The smile faded. "He never told you?"

"I never asked." The only reference Steve had ever gotten to the specific conflict between the brothers was a casual line about Loki being adopted – which, honestly, had seemed in rather poor taste. But at the time, he hadn't wanted to know, and it hadn't seemed important. "Will you tell me?"

"That depends. Do you have any more crisps?"

* * *

In the morning, it felt like a dream. It couldn't have been anything else, really – although Steve did find himself wondering throughout the day how one was _supposed _to react when an enemy of Earth stole your chips.


	3. blue skies from pain

-3-

_-blue skies from pain-_

The third time Steve ran into the man, he was starting to suspect that these trips counted as Loki's vacations from…well, wherever he was most of the time. He'd been feeding the birds at the park, taking one of Natasha's jokes as an honest suggestion for what to do with his time, when suddenly there was someone next to him.

"So, how goes the search for your little runaway?"

Steve gritted his teeth, crumbling some more bread between his fingers and trying to keep himself calm. "His name's Bucky. And I thought you'd know that for yourself. Or are you _not _all-powerful?"

"I'm not all-powerful. Just more powerful than you."

Steve couldn't help but snort at that. "And somehow that's even _more _arrogant. Didn't Hulk throw you around like a rag doll?" He glanced over at Loki, surprised once again at how casually he was dressed. He supposed you only had to see someone in golden horns once before you started expecting it all the time.

"…I wasn't at my best that day."

"Right, you were too busy massacring innocent civilians."

"And your Bucky Barnes is on the run because?"

Steve fell silent. "He was brainwashed," he murmured. "It's not his fault. He doesn't remember."

"How easy it must be for you," spat Loki, after a long silence. "With your good, and your evil, and your _conviction. _I pity the poor fool who crosses you without the handy excuse of being your friend."

Steve threw another handful of crumbs onto the riverbank. He said nothing, staring at the water for so long that when he turned back, he expected Loki to be gone. But he was still there, eyes closed and hands trembling as they clenched and unclenched around each other.

"I think you have every right to be angry," Steve said, slowly and hesitantly. Loki's eyes snapped open and he looked at Steve with an expression of pure confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"The other night. You told me about your father –" Steve stopped, took a deep breath. "I think he should have told you the truth."

"Why do you think I care what _you _think?"

"Because you keep showing up to talk to me. I have no idea why you'd pick me but I figure you haven't caused any destruction yet."

"_Yet_? Oh, ye of little faith." Loki seemed rather amused at that one, a smile playing around his lips.

Steve handed him the bag of bread. He eyed it warily. "And…what am I supposed to do with that?"

"Feed the ducks."

"They look pretty fat to me."

"It helps. Trust me."

He scoffed. "With what?"

"Take it from the soldier. It helps."

There was more silence, but this time Steve took the opportunity to look over Loki, trying to figure him out. Fighting someone was much simpler – take them down, stop them from hurting others, stop them from destroying things, then the job is done. Just _stop _them. But Bucky had made that so much harder, and now things were complicated even more by Loki – Loki and the bags under his eyes, Loki and his casual admission to not remembering something, Loki and the implications that just kept appearing every time Steve tried to imagine someone sly and slim and dark and clever trying to survive in Thor's boisterous shadow.

"You might want to keep your distance for a little bit. Natasha's home, and she really, _really _doesn't like you."

"Can't imagine why," Loki deadpanned.

"But if you come by…Friday afternoon, we can talk more."

"You're assuming I want to."

"Yes, I am." Steve leant back, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I'll even buy you some more Cheetos."

It was almost worth trying to explain to Sam how all the bread had ended up in his hair, just to see Loki actually march off in a proper strop. It was good to know that it was possible to annoy an Asgardian enough that they forgot they were an illusion.


	4. heroes for ghosts

-4-

_-heroes for ghosts-_

Natasha was worried about him. Steve knew it, and that was how he knew things were getting bad. Sam always fretted over him – Steve wasn't sure how he'd managed _without _someone to worry over – but Natasha was different.

"You're alone too much."

"I'm fine. I just need my space."

"There's space, and then there's…well…what you're doing." Natasha took his hands in hers. "We _are _going to find him. You know that, right?"

"I know." He leant over and kissed her forehead, then her nose, chuckling when she wrinkled it in return. She always got embarrassed when he was being cute with her. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm just dealing with things."

"We all are. Maybe you should spend more time with the others –"

"No," he cut her off, and then bit his lip. "Sorry. I just – I like them, they're good to fight with, good to laugh with, but I don't think they understand the Bucky thing. You and Sam get it, but…" He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just a cranky old man."

"You are _absolutely _a cranky old man." She headbutted his chest (rather solidly; he felt a little winded afterwards) – and then she was waving goodbye, her and Sam, both of them, and Steve reminded himself that they were coming back. They were just meeting with Coulson about a possible lead on other ex-Hydra agents. That was all.

_We are going to find him._

_ I'm with you to the end of the line._

Steve crashed to the floor, a lump rising in this throat. Suddenly he wished he'd told Natasha to stay. She'd given him the opportunity, and he'd told her he was fine.

He folded his arms around his knees, pulling them tight against his chest. He wasn't going to cry, he wasn't going to do that because he was a soldier now, and he'd been fighting for a very, _very _long time – people were lost sometimes and sometimes they didn't come back, and he didn't need Bucky to protect him anymore –

The first sob came from deep inside his chest, shaking his entire body. Then the next, and the next.

It didn't matter how old he got, or how many battles he won.

There were soft footsteps on the carpet. Steve shifted, trying to stifle himself so that whoever it was (Nat or Sam) wouldn't freak out. They had enough to think about.

"Is this a bad time?"

Steve looked up in horror. Loki was standing in front of him, awkwardly shuffling from one foot to the other.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, hurriedly wiping the tears from his face, although it was probably several _minutes _too late.

"You invited me. Remember?"

Oh. It was Friday. He'd completely forgotten. Steve leant back against the wall. If he hadn't been feeling overwhelmed before, he certainly was _now. _

"…Are you alright?"

"Do I _look _alright?" he snapped. Then, despite his best efforts, the tears began to fall again. He tried to hide his face in embarrassment, but to his surprise, Loki didn't laugh. Instead, he knelt down in front of him, not quite meeting Steve's eyes.

"What do you want?" Steve asked hollowly. "You've _got _your ammunition, now. The great Captain America, huddled in a corner bawling."

"I thought you didn't care what people thought," said Loki with a half-smile. He swivelled around and sat down next to Steve, who jolted at the pressure of Loki's shoulder against his.

"You're actually here," he said quietly.

"I didn't feel like magic today." Loki clasped his hands together, giving Steve a small smile. "Besides, casting an illusion – it's not the same."

"Even with Cheetos?"

"Especially with Cheetos. I don't suppose you remembered."

"Sorry," he murmured. He paused. "I don't want to talk."

"Do you want the company?"

Steve didn't answer that, mostly because he hadn't decided.

Loki leant his head against the wall, and twirled his hand lazily in the air. The light from the ceiling dimmed, flickered, and then came dancing towards them, a disembodied orb. "I still remember falling," he said, too casually, too lightly. "It felt like eternity. Imagine that. A lifetime of falling endlessly through nothing, and another lifetime of that. I think I lost my mind somewhere in there. If I didn't, then I broke at the end. It's somewhere in there I don't remember. I remember enough of him, though."

Steve didn't have to ask. Whoever Loki had answered to when he attacked New York. The man behind the man, the leader of the Chitauri. "What did he do to you?" he asked in a voice barely above a whisper. He still remembered the files on the Winter Soldier. The clamps. The arm.

"Enough." Loki's hand closed into a fist. The light went out. A moment later it bloomed to life again, back in its place in the ceiling lamp. "I don't remember most of New York, Captain Rogers," he said, his smooth voice betraying only the slightest current of anger beneath it. "Enough to know that it was _my _anger, _my _arrogance. I won't disown that. But I'd at least like to _remember _my own deeds. I don't think that's too much to ask for."

"So you don't regret it?"

"Regret is for the weak."

"Funny. Where I come from, we call that admitting to your mistakes."

Loki swallowed and gave that strange half-smile again. "I wish it was that easy."

"Bucky always –" Steve stopped, recognizing the return of the lump in his throat a little bit too late.

Loki cocked his head. "You really _do _miss him."

"Every day. Does that surprise you?"

"Well, you've set up a lovely domestic life with your two…friends… I'm shocked you have time to worry about anybody else." He chuckled and shook his head. "There's so much _love _in your heart. I can't decide whether it's sickening or impressive."

Steve shifted slightly, his arm brushing against Loki's. He'd never been this close to him before, even when he was nothing but an illusion. "Something my mother always used to say. There's always room for one more, even when you think there isn't."

"Did it do her any good?"

"She was happy, if that's what you mean."

"Who cares about being _happy?_" Loki's voice broke on the last syllable, and he withdrew, sinking into himself and suddenly looking very small indeed.

Bucky's face came to mind again – not the way Steve had seen him last, with dark, fatigued eyes and a metal mask, but before that. Before the sleep, before the war, even before Steve's mother had died. It still hurt, but it didn't feel so hopeless now. "Bucky did. I do. It's worth it when you get it."

"And my chances are?"

"That's kind of up to you."

"I'm surprised you aren't telling me to go apologize to each of my victims personally."

"I'd actually considered it. Selvig got pretty messed up, and Barton's having some issues too."

Loki rolled his eyes at that one, giving a laugh that was completely unconvincing. "What, S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't cover therapy for a little bit of mind-control? I didn't even have them for _long_. Just when I actually had some hope for Midgardians –"

"What did you say his name was again?" said Steve quietly, trying not to make it sound like an admonishment. He did feel a little like someone explaining good and evil to a five-year-old – but Loki wasn't five, he was just bitter and self-obsessed, and did _not _want to admit that perhaps he'd been wrong. It made Steve appreciate what Bucky had done for him, all over again.

Loki seemed to get the point, although he obviously didn't like it. He got to his feet, and the sneer was back, his arms crossed, the dark shadows under his eyes the only hint left of what he had shared. "Good luck with…everything," he said airily, with a mocking tone.

"You too."

That, like each nice gesture that came his way, seemed to disarm him – the posture dropped slightly, but only a few seconds later, it returned. "We'll see."


	5. so you think you can tell

-5-

_-so you think you can tell-_

Days came and went. Natasha went off on another of her adventures, and despite her protestations that she 'knew what she was doing' and 'I will be just fine' and 'I'm a super spy, Sam, you don't need to pack me a toothbrush', Steve continued to worry about her. He supposed it was the downside of love, especially loving someone like Natasha, but there was more to it than that – he hadn't told her or Sam about Loki.

So two nights after she left, Steve decided maybe he should tell _someone. _

Sam was cooking something, as usual. Steve wrapped his arms around his lover's waist from behind, resting his chin on the smaller man's shoulder. "Hello."

"Hello to you too, boy scout." Sam shook his head and laughed. Steve could feel it resonating from his stomach, and he squeezed a little tighter, burrowing his face into Sam's neck. "You're affectionate today. What's up?"

"I just, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. I probably should have mentioned it when Nat was still here, but, uh… you know. Stuff."

"You mean all that cuddling you were doing?" Sam flicked a piece of potato over his shoulder, where it bounced off Steve's forehead. Steve caught it and put it back with the others. "That's alright, I got something I want to talk to you about as well. Lemme put down the knife and get the apron off."

"No, you should leave it on." Steve kissed Sam's neck just beneath his ear, nipping at his earlobe. "Pretty please?"

"You pervert. Well, alright – but I told you, I'm not wearing this thing in bed." Sam slid his hand down into Steve's, and they collapsed on the couch, where Steve promptly resumed nuzzling his neck.

"So who first?"

Steve paused, and then made a sound somewhat like a contented purr. "You first. I'm comfortable."

"Of course you are, you're practically on top of me. God, what is that, two hundred pounds of pure muscle?"

Steve chuckled into Sam's neck. "And you're _so _tiny and fragile."

"I'm a flyer! And I don't have bird bones to carry me either. Speaking of birds, though…"

"We're not adopting any, if that's your question."

"Har-har." Sam struggled into a more upright position, and Steve grudgingly let him. Perhaps it was the conversation he'd had with Loki, but he'd been feeling more…_alive _recently. He still cried sometimes at night, wondering if it wouldn't have been better if Bucky had been dead after all and then beating himself up over it, but he found himself laughing – properly laughing – again. He and Sam had even won in a pillow fight against Natasha, although Sam had asked, and quite rightly so, how many pillow fights ended up with a super-soldier and super-spy wrestling each other on the floor.

"I want to go on a date with Clint."

Steve snapped back to reality. "Wha?"

"Clint _Barton._" Sam's mouth twitched. He was trying not to laugh. "Hawkeye? Bow-and-arrow dude? You saved the world together?"

"That applies to a lot of people, Sam. I know who you mean, though –" and then Steve froze. Barton. The one who had been compromised, the one Natasha always got a little misty-eyed over, the one who –

_Loki._

It had been a set-up from the beginning.

"I –" Steve swallowed. "Why?"

"Why? Why not?"

"No, I meant –" Steve tried to ignore the way his heart was hammering against his chest. "Um, why are you asking me? Usually you just go ahead and tell me after."

"Well, usually I'm not dating another of your, uh…superhero buddies. The S.H.I.E.L.D. circle is kind of incestuous as it is, and come on, you'd want to know if I started sleeping with Thor."

Steve would have started laughing if that wasn't a little too close to what was on his mind. "So, uh, you asked him out?"

"Actually, he asked me! It's nice to catch someone's eye sometimes."

Steve swallowed again. "And he…he seemed normal to you?"

"What's the matter with you, Steve?" Sam couldn't seem to decide whether to be angry or worried. "Shocked somebody else would ask me out?"

"No – no! That's not it at all, I just – I –" Steve grabbed Sam's hands, held them in his own, suddenly well and truly afraid that he'd made the wrong choice in even encouraging Loki at all. "…Someone's been showing up lately."

"Someone?" Sam could see the struggle; it was a shock that he hadn't seen it before, but Steve supposed it had all gotten mixed up with Bucky. Hell, he wasn't fooling anybody, let alone himself; it was _all _Bucky, it was all the same damn thing building on top of each other.

"He just – showed up, and he wasn't hurting anybody, and he was…" Steve swallowed again, his throat was so dry, and he couldn't focus or get over the fact that _somebody might get hurt and it would be his fault, why did he have to be so damn trusting –_ "…Loki. I've been talking to Loki," he croaked, cradling his head in his hands.

_"Loki?_ Ok, my turn to clarify. Loki, as in Thor's crazy brother who killed a shitload of people and tried to conquer the world, starting with New York? Isn't he _dead?_"

"Don't call him crazy," murmured Steve. "And death is kinda cheap these days. Zola was dead. Bucky was dead. Fury was dead."

"Don't call him _crazy?_"

"He was tortured, Sam. He says he was, anyway."

Sam sighed. "Steve. Steve, babe. He's the god of lies. Lying is what he _does._ He probably heard about Bucky and –"

"This was different! I'm not _stupid, _I can tell when someone's been through hell and back, and it was all over his face, Sam – but –" He inhaled, held it, trying not to let it get to him. It didn't matter what he did, it always got back in – the secrecy, the uncertainty, the grey areas. Good was supposed to be good and evil was supposed to be evil, but when evil and your best friend had shared life experiences, you sort of had to wonder. HYDRA should have taught him enough about that.

"You're worried that he's going to use Hawkeye to get to me," said Sam after a moment.

"I think so. I don't know. I… I don't know," he repeated lamely. A moment later, he was being hugged quite ferociously.

"I can take care of myself. Eyes start glowing blue? I'll get the fuck outta there. You need to stop worrying so much."

"So you tell me," he replied morosely. "I hope you have a good time – but for god's sake, be careful."

* * *

"…Hello?"

Steve didn't even bother with a greeting. Loki had barely even made it through the door to the living room before Steve's fist collided with his jaw, sending him flying back through the doorway and onto the floor.

He expected something glib. _You figured it out,_ perhaps, with a sly chuckle and a dark look. Or maybe a returning blow of blue light or a dagger. Something validating, something _clear. _

He didn't expect Loki to sit up slowly, for him to studiously avoid his gaze, for him to rub his jaw with a barely-visible expression of surprise. "I…What did I do this time?"

"Funny. I almost believe you." Steve wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he wanted a hell of a lot, and he hadn't gotten it. He'd wanted a life with Peggy. He'd wanted a first _date, _at least. He'd wanted to be able to sit at a bar with his best friend and say _That was a hell of a war, _not be stuck in a different world, looking for a Bucky who'd lost his mind. People didn't always get what they wanted.

"In the, ah, interests of fairness…" Loki held up his hands, glancing upwards from underneath a stray lock of his unkempt hair with a wary expression, "could you answer my question and pretend like I _don't _know? We've already established I have memory issues."

"Well, my boyfriend is currently on a date with Clint Barton –" Steve couldn't help a sullen sense of satisfaction when Loki winced at the name, "- and I don't know, maybe I'm crazy, but that seems like an awful lot of a coincidence when you've been showing up for god knows what reason. So go ahead. Rub it in – isn't that what you do? Just like you did with Natasha, and Fury, and the rest of us." It was supposed to make him feel better. It didn't. Each word made him feel worse and worse.

Loki was silent, his hands still in front of his face and eyes flickering between Steve and the floor. "I see the serum didn't make you any smarter. Otherwise you would have noticed that I _no longer have the fucking staff,_" he hissed suddenly, the last few words taking on a venom all their own.

Steve's heart sank into his boots. The worst part was, he couldn't even feel relieved. "But then – why are you _here? _I've asked you more than once and you refuse to answer – why else would you visit me?"

Loki murmured something too softly to be heard.

"What?"

"_Because there's no one else!_" he shrieked. "Because I found him and I didn't want to deliver him into your oh-so-gentle arms without knowing you'd be fair! Because I'm _fucking tired of falling!_"

"You…" Steve's mouth worked soundlessly. "You found him?"

"Yes," was the low, bitter reply. "Covered in his own blood, half-dead, lost in his own head. But after realizing what a blockhead my _own _dear brother could be about morality, I thought I should figure out what kind of person you were before I made a decision. Completely selfless. It wasn't about me, it was _never _about me – or at least, it wasn't _supposed _to be –" Loki looked up, and Steve took an unconscious step back. Whether the man crouched on the floor had noticed or not, his skin had turned a dark, mottled blue, tears coursing down his face and leaving frosted trails. Steve had the sense that with a little less self-restraint, Loki might have killed him already.

Clearly, Loki had seen the look on his face. He closed his eyes, and the pinkness of his skin resurfaced, although the tears remained. "I could have killed you thirty times over if I wanted to, Rogers." He got to his feet, nursing his jaw. "I'm sorry I can't be quite as evil as you want me to be."

"W-wait! Where _is _he? Please – I –"

"What makes you so suited to helping him?" was the sharp reply. "No, I won't be back, and neither will he." Loki moved for the door - but whether it was the conversations they'd had or something else entirely, he stopped, leaning his head wearily against the doorjamb.

"Loki?"

He laughed – bitterly, and wearily, like someone carrying the world on his shoulders and afraid to let it fall, like someone with nothing left to lose, like both those things and a million others aside. "He's in rural Ireland. Coast of Wexford, a little place called Waterford. It used to be a Viking settlement, and Barnes – well, he _might _be Irish."

Steve leant back against the wall, head spinning. "…Thank you," he breathed.

"Oh, spare your breath. There's just… someone who'd be pretty disappointed in me if I left you like that." Loki gave him a wry smile – and then he was gone.

Steve thought he probably would never see him again.


	6. the same old fears (wish you were here)

-epilogue-

-_the same old fears/wish you were here-_

But, of course, he did. It took almost a year. He'd already heard about what had happened in Asgard – the old king's disappearance, his eyepatch, boots and staff laid by the edge of the water. They hadn't found a body yet. Steve kept his own counsel, even though it proved difficult when he realized the situation it left the other world in.

Loki showed up in a rather sad state. Steve didn't recognize him at first – whether it was Midgard rain or Asgard riverwater, he was drenched right through, with a black cloak slung around his shoulders. It showed off his true height, making him look rather like a ghoul – albeit a ghoul with a face like a kicked puppy.

"…Can I come in?" He glanced upwards, and flinched as a crash of thunder sounded far away.

"Of course you can. And that's just ordinary thunder, by the way."

"You never know," he said darkly, but he stepped through the doorway anyway. "I didn't kill him, by the way," he said hurriedly, before Steve could say anything. "He killed himself, I was in disguise as someone else, I just didn't want to be in a _cell, _and then he went and jumped into the river and somebody had to do something while Thor was off being stupid –"

"Hey, hey, hey, catch your breath, will you?" Steve grasped Loki's shoulder and pushed him down onto the couch. "I wasn't going to ask."

Loki looked a little sheepish. "Well," he huffed, drawing the cloak closer around himself, "now you know."

"I'm sorry."

"What?" It came out as peevish, and Steve flinched a little at Loki's imperious tone. He gently took the cloak from Loki's shoulders, hanging it up where it could drip in peace before giving him a warm, dry blanket.

"You might want to get your wet clothes off first, although that's your choice."

Loki didn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt, although he stopped there before pulling the blanket around himself. "That's the last time I jump in a river," he muttered. "What are you sorry about?"

"What do you think?" Steve gave him a shy smile. "I bought Cheetos and everything."

"That was…" Loki tried to count it out on his fingers.

"A year ago."

"I _knew _that. Just maybe not in Midgard years." Loki ran a hand through his hair, and when his fingers hit a tangle, cursed and brought both hands up to sort it out. "Nothing to apologize for, you just hit me in the face and assumed I was trying to mess with your head. Which, as assumptions go, isn't a particularly atrocious one."

"I shouldn't have judged you."

Loki shrugged. "Everyone does it. My own brother doesn't trust me, and I've given him plenty of reasons not to." His face suddenly twisted. "He isn't even my brother."

"I don't know what else you'd call him."

Loki looked up at him suddenly, hands still tangled in his bedraggled hair. "I still do _not _understand you. How can someone be so horrifically, annoyingly, overwhelmingly positive?"

"Hard work. Good friends. People willing to forgive a few mistakes." Steve sat down on the couch next to Loki. "You should try it."

"Oh _god." _ Loki waggled a finger in Steve's face, trying to hide the smirk on his face. "If you ever, ever think I'll be as much of a goody two-shoes as _you _are, then -"

Steve caught his finger. "What was it you said? Wanna talk about truth? Honour? Patriotism?" He grinned so widely he thought his face might break in half. "And _apparently _my costume's a bit tight."

Did Loki's face turn a little pink? Steve rather thought it did. "He wasn't supposed to repeat that. Bit rude, don't you think, repeating personal conversations–"

Steve kissed him. After a moment, he drew back, trying to sound perfectly calm on the outside. "You brought Bucky back to me. You saved his life."

Loki was _definitely _pink at that. He couldn't meet Steve's eyes. "It was the least I could do."

"Can I kiss you again?"

"You're asking _permission? _You really are a bloody boy scout." This time Loki kissed him – shyly, hesitantly, his hand just barely touching his shoulder. And it was perfect, until –

"Whoever you're snogging and giggling with out there, I get to meet them in the morning!" came Natasha's voice from the bedroom, followed by a grumbled, "I just wanna sleep…", presumably from Sam.

Loki paled. Steve laughed. "She doesn't bite, don't worry."

"But I called her a –"

"Yes, I know. She has other ways of getting revenge."

"That's not comforting!"

"Don't worry." Steve messed up Loki's hair again, earning a grouch from the Asgardian, who proceeded to put it back in place. "I'll protect you."

"You've _got _to be joking."

* * *

Steve was still restless. And Loki still dreamt of falling.

But it was better. They weren't fixed, becaused 'fixed' wasn't something they could be – Natasha still disappeared in the middle of the night, and Sam still jumped at loud noises, and Bucky still reacted to orders too quickly and had holes in his memory – but they were alive, and more alive every day.

And eventually, maybe, restless would become adventurous, and falling would turn into flying.


End file.
